


Never

by TaraLaurel1



Category: Four Brothers (2005)
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Comedy, Drinking Games, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraLaurel1/pseuds/TaraLaurel1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friendly, brotherly, drinking game, an intoxicated Bobby, and a whole lot of underlying issues that are about to be ripped painfully up to the surface. Post-movie. Long Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Another one shot. I do apologize for all the dialogue. This was a very character/dialogue-driven scene. There wasn't much physical activity going on and even the little time I did spend on describing it seemed to be taking away from the conversation/argument. If you get confused, don't worry. It all makes sense in the end. I know it may seem cheesy that they would play this game at their age and with the way they act, but I think it is possible if Bobby was this inebriated. And yes, I used the "drink you all under the table" line for Bobby, even though Jack said it in the movie. Jack imitates a lot of Bobby's behavior, so I don't think it is far off to reason that Bobby was the original user of it.
> 
> The game is "Never Have I" or "I Never" or a bunch of different names. You play by saying, for example, "I've never had sex." Whatever you say has to be true about you. The remaining members of the group who have done what was said (i.e. had sex) have to take a drink. Sometimes it is played with shots, but I used just taking drinks for the sake of not making everyone completely drunk.
> 
> PTSD is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jack groaned.

"Bobby, you are trippin' if you think I'm gonna play that dumb game with ya'll," Jerry agreed with an equally disapproving groan.

"What?" The eldest Mercer brother demanded incredulously.

"You always take it so seriously, man," Angel sided with his other brothers.

"Come on! Isn't this supposed to be a fucking celebration? Jack's back home. Sweet has 'mysteriously disappeared' and well – I'm the fucking oldest, so you three girls have to listen to me and do what I say."

"If we did everything you said, we'd be dead or in prison," Jerry countered.

"Oh, man up, ladies, and drink! Here, I'll start since you all are being a bunch of pussies." Bobby cleared his throat dramatically. "I've never lost a game of turkey cup."

"You wouldn't even be playin' this dumbass game if you weren't already three sheets to the fucking wind," Angel ribbed, ignoring Bobby's statement entirely.

"I am not. I don't get –"

"Drunk," Jack nodded.

"Inebriated," Jerry continued.

"Smashed," Jack chuckled.

"Fucked. Up," Angel finished loudly.

"Whatever, man," Bobby snorted, "I could drink you all –"

"Under the table," Jack finished for him while rolling his eyes. "We've heard it, Bobby."

"And we've all seen what you're like when you do this stupid ass shit," Angel added. "We ain't a bunch of dumbass college kids."

"We used to play drinking games all the damn time," Bobby shook his head.

"Yeah," Angel huffed, "used to. As in 'not anymore.'"

"Let's just fucking do it already," Jack mumbled. "You know he won't shut up until we do."

"Alright, alright," Angel conceded.

"Fine." Jerry raised his brow, "but I am not coming home to Camille all drunk as hell."

"Then you'll just have to come home with us, Jerry," Bobby laughed throatily. "Alright, ladies. You heard me. I've never lost a game of turkey cup."

Each of the younger brothers reluctantly took sips from their drinks.

"Weak," Bobby muttered at his brothers' hesitation. "Jerry, you next."

"Okay. I've never been suspended from hockey," he countered, forcing Bobby's hand. "Go, Angel."

"Damn – uh – I've never – been white," he finished with a sly grin.

"Not cool, man, you always play that," Jack shook his head as he sat his glass back down. "But I've never been black."

Jerry and Angel shared a glance before taking their drinks. This was not going to end well.

"I've never been married," Angel said once it was his turn again, nodding at Jeremiah who rolled his eyes and lifted his glass.

"Here, here," Bobby cheered, clinking glasses with Jack and Angel, "and never plan to be."

"I've never cheated on my wife or girlfriend," Jerry shot back, causing both Bobby and Angel to drink.

"I've never searched the internet for porn," Angel declared proudly as it came back around to him, to which Jack and Jerry had to take a swallow.

"I've never hid Playboy under my mattress," Jack chuckled as Angel begrudgingly obeyed the rules.

"So cliché, Angel," Bobby shook his head his mock disappointment. "I bet Ma found those right away. Okay, okay. I have never worn makeup."

Jack sent Bobby an unmistakable death glare as he lifted the alcohol to his lips.

"One time, man, one time for a show," he argued.

"Alright, break it up," Angel cut in playfully. "I've never paid for sex," he revealed, stealing Jerry's turn, who was more than grateful.

"What?" Bobby nearly choked. "You? Angel Mercer."

"Hey man, don't be jealous."

The game continued, revealing who had braces, one night stands, Hispanic, Asian, Latina, and Chinese girlfriends, pinpointing Jerry for being the only brother with children, targeting Jack for all things music-related, Bobby for all things crime-related, Angel for various sexual endeavors and numerous other colorful secrets and memories.

The brothers had lost track of time, questions, and alcohol when Jack nearly fell out of his chair in a fit of hysterics. He was laughing about nearly everything and somehow managed to be even more clumsy than usual. Bobby was growing more belligerent by the minute. The oldest Mercer was usually not one to be highly affected by the brain chemical altering substance, but had put away a very generous amount of liquor before the game had even begun. Angel was stony faced as usual, which was how Bobby normally acted when intoxicated. Something serious was going on with the stoic oldest brother and Angel was keeping himself functional for when the volcano that was Bobby finally erupted. Despite Jack and Bobby's endless competitions to see who could out drink who, Angel could easily hold his liquor better than any of the Mercers. Jerry, on the other hand, was simply using Bobby's inebriation to his advantage. He had started to merely pretend to drink or take only minute sips. He, too, knew Bobby just as well as Angel did and was also keeping straight for when the preverbal shit hit the fan.

And then it did.

"I've never had sex with another man," Bobby arrogantly spouted, obviously too far gone to think straight as to how seriously unfunny that topic was in that family.

Sure, on a normal day, Jack could take the continual harassment. But this was different. Not to mention the fact that the youngest Mercer became quite overly sensitive emotionally once intoxicated. They had witnessed it first hand when a thirteen year old Jack had stolen Angel's case of Coors after getting beat up at school. He started weeping uncontrollably and talked incoherently about everything from the offending teenagers at school to his horrific experiences in foster care before passing out.

Now, his light and dancing eyes grew dark as Jack stared at Bobby across the rim of his glass. His fists clenched and he nearly stood to walk away.

"I've never killed a man," Jack said in a low and dangerous voice.

Bobby drank far too slowly, locking threatening gazes with his youngest brother. Angel and Jerry could have sworn the bar dropped in temperature, both no longer a part of this game.

"I've never done drugs to escape my fucked up past," Bobby hissed.

"I've never run away from my family, job, girlfriends, mother – everything, skipping from town to town because I can't deal with shit and am too afraid of committing to something or caring about someone."

"I've never chosen screaming, hormonal, fan girls over my brothers."

"I've never chosen a sport over my brothers."

"I've never died and left my brothers behind!" Bobby voice filled the entire bar.

"I had no choice!" Jack suddenly leapt up, knocking his chair out from underneath him.

"There's always a choice!"

"I was shot!"

Everyone besides the two raging brothers was dead silent as they watched the heated feud with anticipation and fear. A tension brimmed hush fell over the two as they both sank into each others' eyes hotly and breathed far too heavily. Jack was stiff, his programmed fight or flight instincts from his years of abuse and PTSD kicking in. Bobby was rigid, except his shoulders which lifted and lowered with each labored and angered breath. The declaration had silenced Bobby's sharp tongue momentarily and Jack watched his eldest brother falter.

"You shouldn't have left –" Bobby started in a reproaching manner.

"Because you would know all about leaving, Bobby!" Jack countered fiercely. "You wrote the fucking book on it! I left to finally do something for me. To pursue my dream. Evelyn wanted me to go. She encouraged me when I almost didn't go through with it. What about you? You and hockey? What about after hockey? You could've come back. You could've visited, called, something! Then – then I left – because I was dying! I was shot! A whole fucking lot! Pain and fear – ripping through me and I couldn't stay. No matter how much I wanted to – I couldn't. I'm sorry. I wanted to stay. And you're fucking pissed at me for that?"

"No!" Bobby shouted, also violently standing and then calming himself with more harsh breaths. "No. Damn it, Jack. I should've done something more – something else. I should've protected you! Now you're gone and it's all my fault! I never should've come back home." He paused for what seemed like an eternity and raised his glass. "I never saved my baby brother."

Bobby felt Jack's arms around his neck before he even realized his brother had moved around the table. He closed his eyes and felt the hot, stinging tears beating against the inside of his lids, a few determined droplets fighting and slipping past the barricade. Jack's arms grew heavier strangely and suddenly Bobby felt his youngest brother pulling away from him, or rather, pulling Bobby away from the table, from everything. It was an odd thing for Jack to do and Bobby would dare open his eyes to see and allow the river of grief free.

"Bobby!"

Jack's voice was thick and weighted. He sounded almost far away. But how was that possible? Bobby could feel his brother's arms on him and knew they were right next to each other.

"Damn it, Bobby!"

Jack's voice cracked with exhaustion and aggravation as he continued to pull on the eldest Mercer. Bobby couldn't understand what Jack needed to yell for when they were so close together.

"What Jack?"

"Wake the fuck up!"

Bobby shot up in the dark. His fist nearly collided with something hovering above him in a blind reaction to the sudden arousal. He blinked, finding no tears in his eyes. The shadow moved away momentarily and suddenly a lamp light engulfed the small living room.

"Jack?" Bobby coughed. "What –"

"You passed out drinking on the couch after the hockey game. Would've let you sleep, but you spilled beer all over – you – and the floor."

"Ah, shit," Bobby sat up and examined his damp shirt and the stained wood. "Fuck."

"Leave it," Jack sighed. "It's already dried. Nothin' you can do now that can't wait 'till morning anyway. Come on. Let's go upstairs to bed before you pass out again or puke your damn guts out on me."

"One time," Bobby shook his head and then grimaced as the words echoed from his apparent dream.

He looked over at his baby brother, making his way towards the stairs with his fashionable, medically prescribed cane. Jack loathed it, but it was better than the crutches or wheelchair that had preceded the cane in his recovery. Bobby shook his head. It had been months and it still only felt like days. Jack turned to see if his heavily intoxicated brother was following him. Instead, Jack found Bobby standing in the middle of the living room merely staring at him.

"What?" Jack asked defensively.

"Nothin'," Bobby shrugged and then through back to his dream. "I never realized how much of a lucky son of a bitch I am."

He had spent the last several months enwrapped in self-pity and self-loathing. He couldn't stop watching Jack die in his dreams night after night. He couldn't stop blaming himself for the entire mess. Even if Jack was alive, he had come about as close to death's door as a person can get and Bobby only had himself to blame. He had been walking around with angst, attitude, and aggression and it all needed to stop. He had been blessed and given a miracle that day and all Bobby had done was spit at it so far. Jack was alive. Bobby didn't lose his baby brother that day and he really was one lucky man for that.

"Uh, okay," Jack mumbled. "Whatever, man. You need to sleep before you start telling me how much you love me or tequila or –"

"Jack," Bobby interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I know."

"Oh," Bobby continued, beginning to ascend the stairs and smirking, "and shut up."


End file.
